BLinded By Love
by adrynnXadrenaline
Summary: When B leaves Wammys to carry out the LABB murders, L shows up on his doorstep the next day. When does loathing become love? Why does B feel the need to help him with the Kira case? Why would imminent death be appealing? Could B save L's life? LxBB
1. Chapter 1

Pent-up anger bubbles beneath one's surface, waiting to explode in an angry fury upon the single person who caused it. But would things turn out the alright if that same person could sooth that frustration?

Before I proceed, permit me to introduce myself. I am Beyond Birthday, the backup for if my predecessor, and best friend, A, failed in being able to succeed _our_ predecessor – L.

Now, pardon my brief interruption, but L is the loathsome creature who caused this fury. He was – is – so damn perfect all the time; and he tries to force that…. _perfection_… unto the rest of us. For A, it was too much. A bent beneath the pressure, and ended his own life. A's death increased my unquenchable hatred for L. A's death also spurred my exodus from Wammy's and England. I moved to L.A. to carry out an unsolvable case for the so-said "world's greatest detective." My case would have been unsolvable, as I have the eyes of a shinigami. I could see everyone's – anyone's – name and the date on which they were destined to leave this life; unfortunately this discluded myself. Why unfortunately? It's because _I_ intended to be _my_ last "victim." Why myself? I had formed plans in which I would set myself on fire – destroying any possible evidence.

I never ended up being able to carry out my plans…


	2. Chapter 2

I sat in my new home: a small, nearly decrepit house. I was crouched on the stained, worn, plush wine chair in the far right corner of the living room; scooping strawberry jam out a jar and greedily eating it. I will admit that while, on a regular basis, I dress identically to the man that I wish dead, today I was wearing my traditional Wammy's wear: black skinny jeans and a white v-neck shirt. My disheveled hair lay over my eyes in its normal fashion, sticking out in this way and that.

Finishing my jam, I trudged to the washroom, my thumbs hooked on the pockets of my jeans; then proceeded to tear a comb through my hair. It fell flat and straight over my brow, my heavy black locks falling over my right eye especially. I was unaccustomed to having my hair look so tidy. I tousled it with my fingers, achieving in only making it look styled. Then again, it didn't really matter. Who cared about appearances here? No one knew me. And there were far more f-ed up people on the streets of L.A. than I. Sighing, I exhaled sharply as I shuffled around the house. Bored.

I had only been in L.A. for a day or two, and I felt aimless. I could not immediately start my killings, as I'm sure that L is trying to track me – or could I? Would it seem stranger for the killings to start as soon as I arrived? Or would it be more awkward to start them later? Considering that they might not have been able to pinpoint my location just yet, and taking into perspective that I might just move around America, it might be better to wait. That's what I had decided anyhow. It was more my style. Besides, I wanted to get to know that surroundings and geography before I got involved with anything. I couldn't be in over my head. I had to bite off only what I could chew. And right now, all I knew was that the market was four blocks to the right of my door, then up one and a half.

A lazy tap-tap on the front door drove me from my thoughts. Why was a visitor here? I was slightly aghast as I meandered toward the end of the front hall. I fumbled with the chain, thumb turn, deadbolt, and slide locks then cracked the door open. My feet cemented to the threshold, I was frozen, astounded by the identity of my guest. After a moment, I began to recognize that my toes were digging into the floor, despite the immobility of the rest of my body.

"Hello B..." his nearly monotonous voice murmured solemnly.

My eyes were transfixed on my visitors face. I was brooding. I glared into the innocent gray eyes, hidden in the shadow of the mass of his black hair. His eyes looked tired, with deep, dark rings beneath his eyes, the sign of a chronic insomniac. The milky white complexion of his face, smooth with no imperfections, was rounded with a pointed chin – like a child's.

"L..." I gritted through my teeth.

"B... what are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same L."

"Beyond..." L sighed.

"What _are you_ doing here?"

"I came to see you." L justified.

"Why? You miss me?" I sneered, and then turned to walk into the house. L stepped up into my house; his hands were tucked in his baggy jeans' pockets. I stepped aside, allowing him to pass, then I shut the door and reset the locks. My hands rested on the door.

"I- Beyond... I'm sorry about A..." L set me in his gaze.

I turned to stare at L. He actually, for once in his life, had a look of remorse painted on his pearly smooth face. My glare could no longer singe him. My rage dissipated as if a jug of water had been thrown onto a fire. My eyes were burning, the prickling feeling of invisible tears.

"L... don't."

"Talk about A, you mean?"

"Yes..."

"Beyond, I know his suicide hit hard at home for you... I worried about what would happen to you, then you left Wammy's so hurriedly."

I felt heat rise up into my cheeks, my eyes widened. Mentally, I was sewing my mouth shut. I bit my tongue, and tasted a faint taste of a foreign metallic tasting liquid. Blood.

"Beyond... Talk to me..." Ls eyes looked guilty.

I couldn't respond if I wanted to. My world was whirling rapidly around me, my head pounding as my suppressed memories began to surface.

* * *

It was four in the afternoon. I had been dozing off in a bright clearing in the woods. My special place. Rough, black bark dug into my back, I leaned against the trunk, comfortable. The canopy of the tree shielded me from the harsh afternoon sun. Wind brushed through the long wild grass, the water of the small, rocky creek sparkled. Irises and other flowers rose out of the ground. I stood slowly, and stretched. My t-shirt rose high above my naval revealing my firm, sculpted abs, I pulled it back down, and brushed the dirt from my jeans. I followed my path back through the woods and back to Wammy's. As I reached the end of the trail, it opened into a vast country-like landscape. The lush grass of the rolling green hills rippled with the gentle breeze. I smiled slightly, the sky was cerulean with but a few white clouds. I glanced at the large, brick Victorian Gothic institution – then back down at my black Chuck Taylors. I made my way to the stone path as I made my way toward my home. I entered in the back. Once inside, I broke out into a run, jogging up the stairs, taking them two at a time. I wanted to go and see A. I ran to my room quickly to grab the book I had borrowed from him earlier on in the day. My eyes caught side of the clock sitting on my nightstand; the cherry red numbers read two minutes of four. I sprinted back down the hallway toward A's room.

I skidded to a halt at his door, panted for a brief moment then knocked on his door.

"A?" I called out.

There was no answer.

"A?" I repeated.

There was no sound, but I heard a faint creaking in the distance, and an almost inaudible tapping.

"I'm coming in!" I stuck a pin into the lock and fiddled with it a moment before I swung the door open.

A's room was empty. He was always in his room around this time, and I always hung out with him in his room. I turned and walked back up past my room. I was on the top floor of Wammy's with A, X, V, and Z. Xane, Vera, and Zeena – but that was irrelevant. The only person here that I really cared about was A.

My fingers made a shushing sound as I trailed them on the walls as I trudged down the hall. Typically A and I were the only students up here around this time. As I was walking, I remembered how A had told me how he sometimes liked to work up in the attic because no one ever really went up there, they were scared too. A had Roger's permission though.

I mounted the stairs, lost in thought. My shoes thumped as I climbed each step.

Thinking back on it now, I should have thought it awkward that the door had been cracked open.

I entered the attic.

"Hey A? You up here?"

A loud bang startled me out of my thoughts. I hadn't noticed the increased volume of the creaking and thumping.

"A?" I queried, nervous.

I rounded the corner.

And what I saw ripped my heart out.

A.

Was.

Hanging.

From.

a.

Noose.

a.

Rope.

Looped.

Around.

One.

Of.

The.

Ceiling.

Beams.

A hung himself.

My best friend hung himself.

He was dead.

Committed suicide.

The stool on which he had stood was now kicked over.

I looked at A's watch it read 4:13.

I dropped to my knees searching for a note. There was none. I cringed slightly as I went through all of his white skinny jeans' pockets, desperately hoping to locate some sort of notice.

There was none.

I stepped back and looked at A in whole. He wore a white v-neck t-shirt, and black rosary. His feet were clad in black boots. Blood was crusted on his hands, the trails of blood led up to his wrists. A's face looked so young and pure. He had had these wonderfully deep, blue eyes. Like sapphires. His hair was black, and of a medium length, it hung straight, and was brushed forward from the back of his scalp. His hair hung in a neat, graceful manner, it covered his right eye. I stroked his hand, and then held it. His nails were black. I kissed it, and placed the stool upright. I stood atop it and caressed his face, and kissed his lips gently. After, I made myself busy untying the noose; I lowered his body to the floor, holding him.

I didn't even realize that I was screaming bloody murder as if I were the one in agony, until Roger, Watari and L ran in. They surveyed the scene quickly and kicked me out, latching the door behind me. Tears ran down my face furiously. I dashed back to my room and started throwing my possessions into suitcase and some other bags and left...


	3. Chapter 3

L shook me vigorously, as I was apparently screaming like a madman.

"B, snap out of it!" L looked panicked.

But I couldn't. It was A's fault. My breathing was ragged; I buried my face in my knees, hugging my legs to my chest. I was nearly hyperventilating.

L crouched down next to me, his hand resting on my back.

"Beyond…. I– I'm afraid that I don't know what to say." He began to rub my back, attempting to soothe me.

I looked up at L, lifting my head, eyeliner smudging beneath my eyes. I took in a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"L…" I rasped. L's face at the scene of A's death had seemed at least mildly distraught, I called. He had a similar look on his face right now.

"Yes, B?"

"I… I miss… I can't…" I began to cry again, my body limp. L wrapped his arms around me, comforting me. I rested my forehead at the base of his neck. L was so warm…

"Beyond, it wasn't your fault. Please, I know how hard it is; but you have to let it go to an extent."

"I know…" I felt somewhat better. I liked the way that L held me. I cracked a smile. I pulled back to look at him. His innocence was adorable.

L watched me intently. I peered into his eyes. I had the faintest idea that maybe he was thinking the way that I was at this particular moment. L was beautiful. Almost dramatically I leaned in and whispered, "You know; you're right."

L shuddered. My smirk was devilish.

"Am I?" L breathed.

"Yeah…" I tilted my head ever so slightly and pressed my lips to his. Surprisingly, L kissed back. His lips: soft and warm. Gentle. They tasted sweet. I broke away. L frowned.

I kissed him again, passionately. He reciprocated, kissing back roughly. He stood up, so did I. L pushed me back against the door, with a slight bang, leaning over me. My arms wrapped around his shoulders, his around my waist. I pressed my body into his, so there was no space between us, L blushed. I traced the shape of L's bottom lip with my tongue. His lips parted.

We held each other closer still.

I nudged L back. He read my mind. I picked him up and carried him up the stairs. I dropped him on my bed, he scooted back, and I kneeled down on the bed in front of him and kissed the corner of his mouth. He pulled back quickly, I leaned forward, and L pulled further away. I fell forward, my hands landed at either shoulder; I hovered over him, smirking down at him. Essentially he was pinned.

"You just going to fight me?" I teased L.

"Maybe." L pulled me down and pressed his lips to mine, he buried his hands in my hair, tugging on it gently.

Why hadn't we ever been this close at Wammy's? I thought to myself.

"Because you liked to spend your time pretending that you couldn't stand me." L whispered.

We kissed again, "that was a waste of time. I apologize."

"I'd agree." He propped himself up on his elbows, and kissed me. I touched my forehead to his when we split apart, my eyes sparkled. L lay back down, I watched him. He lifted my shirt slightly; I assisted him in removing it. His eyes said everything he was thinking, for as lazy as I seemed, it was a marvel that I was as strong as I was – though L was the same way.

* * *

"Come back with me..." L breathed in my ear.

His lips were out of reach. I kissed his chin. "Of course!" O exclaimed in a hushed tone. My arm was wrapped around L. We faced each other. My right hand skimmed up and down his bear back.

L smiled. "Good," he panted then kissed me again.


End file.
